


I Want You To Want Me

by Venchaser



Series: Stiles's Totally Average Student Life [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Awkward situations, Coarse Language Use, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M, Movie References, Sassy friends, Song references, Stackson - Freeform, Student!Jackson, Student!Stiles, Two Guys One Stiles, University Life, Working!Derek, confused feelings, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venchaser/pseuds/Venchaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Ooh, are we dating? Would you really call it that?’ Stiles said somewhat uncertain. His words fell on deaf man’s ears, ignored. Jackson and Derek threw dangerous looks at each other. Boy, if looks could kill, Stiles thought as he absently-minded sipped his coffee.</p><p>Jackson, or Derek? It really is Sophie's Choice.<br/>Or the One Where Stiles's Troubles and Adventures Are Just Beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want You To Want Me

University had started again. Unfortunately, not one bit of the professor’s lecture got through to Stiles, who was currently pre-occupied with the passive aggressive text message from Derek. It had been three days since he got Derek’s text. Why the hell should we talk? Is there even anything left to talk about? Last time I checked, he was too busy with his stupid work. The only thing they did was fuck around in the end. Stiles decided it was not really healthy, just fucking around like rabbits, so he ended it rather abruptly. Derek had no objections at that time, seemingly relieved it was over.

He supported his head with his left hand while his right hand was tapping occasionally on his smartphone’s screen to keep the auto-lock from activating.  Lydia, furiously typing away on her laptop, avidly listening to what the balding man in the front of the lecture hall had to say, threw a few glances in Stiles’s direction.

‘Mantrouble with your lovers?’ she whispered.

‘Something like that.’ His anger with Lydia and the rest of his friends had ebbed away. Sure, they did go out for drinks without him, ignored him for the majority of the summer, but apparently that was because of some faulty electronic communication: unsent texts and such. Life’s funny sometimes. No, not really.

Stiles was about to explain the entire situation, when suddenly Lydia’s attention was drawn to their professor. She turned livid, excited. She had smelled blood and went in for the kill.

‘Excuse me, professor, but aren’t you interpreting Hutcheon’s theory of postmodernism incorrectly?’ and off she went, building a solid, impenetrable argument that would, without a doubt, embarrass the academic. Lydia’s intelligence knew no limits.

The poor man, unsuccessfully trying to defend his point of view, was pushed in a corner by Lydia’s wit. On any other day, Stiles would enjoy this intellectual execution, but his mind was too busy dealing with this entire Jackson-Derek dilemma.

‘God, this is like Sophie’s Choice.’ Stiles mumbled to the phone. The screen lit up. One new text message, Jackson.

_Class finished early, wanna go grab a coffee? It’s pumpkin spice season ;)_

_Sure! Class is over in a sec. Meet me at the main building?_

_Okay_

‘Well, class, th-that was it. Class dismissed.’ The poor man, sweating profusely, his bald head gleaming with defeat, left dejectedly, his little brown briefcase in tow.

‘Damn, Lydia. What did you do? Threaten to kill him?’

‘What? He was wrong.’ She smiled like an evil genius who just figured out the last formula in order to gain world domination.

‘Well, I’m off. Jackson and I are going for some coffee.’ Lydia gave an incredulous look. ‘What?’

Lydia gave him a long, meaningful stare.

‘You don’t understand, it’s Sophie’s Choice!’

‘Sure it is. Just be careful. Be honest to both of them.’

‘I am, no worries.’ Stiles said, not too certain if his statement was entirely truthful. Jackson did not know about Derek, and Derek certainly did not know about Jackson. And Stiles wanted to keep it that way. Who knows what would happen if they did.

*

Stiles hastily sprinted to the main building, where Jackson, cheeks already pink from the cold autumn wind, stood waiting against the concrete wall. His face lit up immediately, the trademark smirk included, when he saw Stiles.

‘Sorry I’m late. There was a bit of a hold up in the hallways. There was a celebrity-sighting, someone fainted, Ebola outbreak, or something and it took me a while to pass through. Anyway, here I am. Let’s go!’ he said in a stream of words, a little out of breath.

The sky was overcast with sombre, grey cumulus clouds, drifting slowly. The chilly breeze threw a myriad of leaves from the trees on the boulevard in the air. Stiles, accidently on purpose, brushed his icy hand against Jackson’s. He did not pull back, instead their hands kept bumping into each other, grazing each other from time to time. Jackson still wasn’t ready to completely come out, but Stiles respected Jackson choice. Jackson, however, did try to open the closet a bit more. At least he wasn’t in Narnia anymore. Each time their hands touched, even the lightest, softest touch, Jackson couldn’t help but smile, as did Stiles. It was innocent, yet exhilarating at the same time.  Look at us, Stiles thought, so sappy.

There wasn’t a long line at the Starbucks, and many seats were still available, so they decided to have their coffee to stay. Stiles gave his order, pumpkin spice latté with extra whipped cream, and then navigated towards some comfortable-looking seats in the corner, next to the giant window which gave away an impressive view of the grand hall of Central Station. While Jackson was waiting at the counter for their order, Stiles began observing the foot-travelers. Some looked distraught, harried, while others strolled contently along the marble road. Young, old, with or without a cane, limping or not. It was a multi-coloured, but not necessarily cheerful, picture.

Jackson arrived with their coffee, and a little surprise: a big chocolate muffin. Stiles’s favourite.

‘What’s my debt?’ he began fishing for his wallet.

‘Stiles, relax. It’s my treat.’ Jackson assured.

‘I can’t let you do that! You already paid for those flowers you gave me, and the dinner, which wasn’t exactly cheap…’

‘Stiles, I have to tell you something.’

Stiles felt a dark pit forming in his stomach. Uh-oh.

‘Are we breaking up? After all those years? What about the children! Think of the children!’ Stiles managed to blurt. Humour saves the day.

‘No, Stiles. Be serious for a moment.’ Stiles began picking the chunks of chocolate off his muffin.

‘I don’t mind treating you. I’ve got enough cash. Well, my parents have enough cash, and they’ve given me a big portion so…’

‘Define “enough cash”.’ Stiles dared to ask.

‘Batman rich.’ Stiles’s nerd-senses tingled. He was kind of getting turned on by Jackson referring to rather geeky stuff.

‘Oh my,’ some chocolate fell on his lap. Jackson, who sat next to him, quickly surveyed the room before going in, picking up the piece of chocolate, deliberately lingering around a rather sensitive area of Stiles.

‘Oh my God.’ Stiles exclaimed as Jackson grinned devilishly. They playfully poked each other, drank their coffee and talked about whatever was on their mind: school, work, hobbies, murders committed long ago, and secret lovers in far-off continents. The usual stuff. Everything was going smoothly, until Stiles turned to gaze out the window, when he suddenly met with a very familiar pair of green eyes. Derek. Derek signalled he’d go around. Before Stiles could stop him by furiously nodding ‘no’, he was already gone. Stiles eyed the door at the other side of the coffee bar with terror. Options? Run away with the muffin? But what about the coffee then? Use forbidden blood magic to transport to the Bahamas? Pull the fire alarm and hope for the best? And, nope, there was Derek, too late.

‘Friend of yours?’ Jackson asked, sipping his latté.

‘Oh boy. Uhm. Long story short? I slept with that guy. On more than one occasion.’ Jackson spluttered, coffee dripping from the sides of his mouth.

‘Shit, here he comes… Derek! Hi. Uhm… What’s up?’

‘I’m good. Stiles, listen, sorry to be so abrupt, but we need to talk.’ Derek’s eyes fell on Jackson, who sported a pissed-off expression. His eyebrows almost touched.

‘Who’s this?’ Derek asked rather coldly, when he noticed Jackson’s hand, rather possessively on Stiles’s knee. Stiles hadn’t even noticed it.

‘Derek, this is Jackson. He’s been nicer to me in three days than you have been in the three and a half months we went out. Jackson, unfortunately, is still a bit of a closest case, but he’s rich, so that compensates, right? Jackson, this is Derek. He is my ex-fuckbuddy. We only had a deep conversation once, afterwards, he took me rather passionately in his private library. He’s brilliant in bed, but an emotional fuckwit.’ This little scenario ran through Stiles’s mind, and he couldn’t help but let out a slight, snorting giggle before he realized this was actually highly inappropriate. Instead, what he said was:

‘Jackson, this is Derek. He’s my…,’ Stiles lacked to word to describe what Derek exactly was.

‘I’m his best friend’s brother.’ Derek replied, voice as cold as a Russian tundra.

‘I’m Jackson, currently dating Stiles.’ Accentuating the word ‘dating’, Jackson bore an avaricious look.

‘Ooh, are we dating? Would you really call it that?’ Stiles said somewhat uncertain. His words fell on deaf man’s ears, ignored. Jackson and Derek threw dangerous looks at each other. Boy, if looks could kill, Stiles thought as he absently-minded sipped his coffee.

‘Don’t think I’m giving up that easily.’ Derek left with those words.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Stiles muttered confusedly. Jackson, however, struck with a pang of greed, grabbed Stiles and kissed him. The intensity bruised their lips, but Jackson, possessed by a covetous hunger, needed more. Stiles, not entirely objecting to Jackson’s sudden display of, perhaps misplaced, affection, had to process the messed-up comedy which had just unfolded in front of him. Jackson expertise kissing did clear his mind soon though. But only for a while.

*

Evening. The moon, illuminating the city with its pearly blue light, rose quietly. There was an emergency meeting at Stiles’s dorm. Over the years, the gang had had many emergency meetings, or Disaster Dates as they called it.  The first DD was four years ago, when Scott wanted to ask out Isaac, who, back then, wasn’t part of their little group yet. Since then, a DD was pretty common. Almost one every two or three months. It was also an excellent occasion to binge on fast-food and soft drinks, and whine about relationships and things that sucked in general.

Jackson was out, gone partying with some of his frat friends, so there no need to whisper cautiously because of the ridiculously thin dorm walls.

So, here they were, all in Stiles’s medium sized dorm room. Allison, Lydia and Erica were huddled together on Stiles’s bed. Scott and Isaac on the floor, backs against the wardrobe. Stiles, who leaned against his desk, told the story for the umpteenth time. They had analysed the narrative a dozen of times.

Erica, local expert on sex, said: ‘Well, you said Derek was a great fuck,’ Stiles cringed at the coarse use of language, but listened attentively nonetheless. ‘But this Jackson guy seems nice, but he’s a closet case. Seems pretty clear to me what you need to do. Sleep with this Jackson guy, see who’s best and keep that one.’

Erica was a firm believer of sex, and sex only. Love? Ain’t nobody got time for that anymore. Erica’s philosophy was that we lived in sexually liberated times, and that we should celebrate our sexuality. Other people simply called her a ‘slut’. Stiles liked her brutal honesty and open-mindedness.

‘No, no, no!’ Allison objected. ‘Stiles, you _have_ to be careful. Jackson, I don’t trust the guy. He’s too slick. He’s like a snake. Plus, you said he still shies away from public displays of affection.’

‘I don’t know, he was pretty much all over me after Derek’s surprise visit. And he did kissed me in public!’

‘In an empty coffee bar, in a far-off corner.’ Allison countered.

‘He held my hand all the way back here!’

Allison rolled her eyes, ‘I call BS. Really, get away from him while you still can without too much heartbreak. Hear Derek out, that’s my advice.’ Isaac hummed in agreement.

‘Uh, like Derek was that perfect? You can’t call humping like bunnies a healthy relationship.’ Stiles retorted.

‘I think you need to cut him some slack,’ Isaac interjected ‘I remember you were really happy during those few months you dated.’

‘Were we even dating?’ Stiles bitterly asked.

‘Yes, Stiles, you were. Only you and Derek didn’t acknowledge that teeny, tiny fact. Both stubborn as hell.’ Isaac snapped.

Lydia and Scott had remained silent throughout the entire discussion.

‘Scott? Lydia?’ Stiles asked apprehensively.

‘I don’t know, dude. Derek’s my brother. I’m still a bit grossed-out by the fact you described your “humping” with some rather vivid detailing. ’

‘Understandable.’ Stiles responded. ‘Sorry for that.’

‘Derek didn’t tell us, I didn’t know you guys were… y’know, until you told me. Derek didn’t say anything when you guys broke up. He did seem depressed around that time. Unfortunately, I don’t see him that often anymore, so, sorry. But I do know, if he wants to talk now, it does mean something.’

‘Something…? C’mon, Scott! Gimme something to work with.’ Scott replied by shrugging his shoulders. “Derek’s a pretty difficult guy to read,” he admitted.

Lydia, gears grinding at full speed, looked intently at the Star Wars poster.

‘I was just thinking… Do you perhaps have a picture of Jackson?’ she enquired.

‘Uhm, Yeah? I guess?’ Stiles pulled out his phone, tapped a few times and handed Lydia his iPhone with great care. Those things were expensive, and money did not grow on trees for Stiles.

‘Yeah, I thought so.’ She mumbled.

‘Excuse me, what’s that?’ Everyone closed in on Lydia. She _knew_ something.

She looked at her friends, let out soft sigh. ‘We slept together.’

‘You WHAT?’ Stiles roared. He lost his grip on the desk and slipped.  ‘Aah!’

Isaac and Scott were baffled, mouths wide open. Allison looked unimpressed. She knew better than anyone else Lydia got her fair share of men. Erica’s eyes were glittering with excitement. ‘This is gonna be good.’ She muttered. Things certainly took a turn of the scandalous, it seemed.

‘Not sexually, you idiots. Well, I did almost have sex with him, but he couldn’t go through with it in the end.’ She seemed too disappointed to Stiles’s liking.  ‘It happened during a party, somewhere in July. We kissed for a while, then moved somewhere more private. He started crying somewhere between me tossing my panties across the room and him nervously fumbling with his belt. He continued to cry for about an hour, and then we fell asleep. I snuck away in the morning, never saw him again. Spare him the embarrassment, you know?’

The anticlimactic revelation had stirred up an uneasy atmosphere. The silence was broken by the Imperial March, blasting out of the iPhone’s speakers.

‘Derek sent you a text.’ Lydia simply said, the tune still playing ominously.

‘Give me!’ Stiles yelped, but Lydia, with little effort, moved out of reach while reading the text. A soft smile dancing on her face.

‘Hey, Stiles, what’s your favourite song again?’

‘I Want You To Want Me, by Cheap Trick? Why are you asking?’ Stiles was confused by her question.

‘Here, read.’ She threw the phone, which Stiles clumsily caught. Everyone else gathered round Stiles, peering over his shoulders to read Derek’s message.

_I want you to want me_

_I'll shine up the old brown shoes, put on a brand new shirt.  
I'll get home early from work if you say that you love me._

‘So what? He sent a part of a verse from my favourite song. Plus, this song is actually kinda the ‘overly-attached boyfriend’ song from the seventies.’

‘It’s endearing, Stiles, face it.’ Everyone else agreed.

*

In the next half hour, Stiles received many more text messages, each one containing a quote from his favourite movies, verses from romantic songs, or excerpts of love poetry. It was quite romantic. It left Stiles, unfortunately, even more confused with regards to the entire Jackson-Derek debate.

‘He never did stuff like this back when we were… “together”,’ air-quoting the final word. ‘Ah, this is really Sophie’s Choice!’ Stiles cried.

‘Hmmm, I think we need to do some research here.’ Allison suggested.

‘Meaning?’ Lydia showed great interested in where this was going.

‘Movie night.’

‘Movie night.’ Lydia reaffirmed.

*

After watching several highly romantic, yet tragic movies everyone was asleep on either Stiles’s carpeted floor, in front of the TV, or in some sort of foetal position on his bed. Everyone but Stiles himself. He was wide awake, unable to descend to the depth of dreams. Instead, he tiptoed barefoot towards to window, over resting bodies, over empty pizza boxes. He gazed at the crescent **moon** , floating in solitude against the starry backdrop, while thought about the messed up situation he was in. It’s funny actually. The saying: “when it rains, it pours”? It’s true. But now, he was drowning. He considered Jackson, who was still afraid, hiding in the shadows of his own shame. Stiles understood. Being gay can be hard; people stare when they see you walking down the street, holding hands with another boy. He and Derek never held hands in public. They never kissed in public. Everything behind closed doors, far away from the prying eyes of society. Sure, things were starting to look up for their community, but the road was still long and more trials were lurking ahead. And still, Jackson had kissed him in the coffee house. That meant something, didn’t it? To break those chains of fear. That took courage, did it not? But he only knew Jackson, what, three days? Was it too soon to decide? To write Jackson off as just a passing fad?

Scott stirred in his sleep.

Stiles was tired, so tired. He silently moved the chair from his desk, sat and laid down his head which rested on his arms, folded. His eyes were heavy with sleep, he closed them. Sleep never came that night, but the moon, regardless of his insomnia, kept a close eye on Stiles.

*

The weekend couldn’t come soon enough for Stiles. He had successfully minimized contact with both Derek, who kept sending quotes relating to anything remotely romantic, and Jackson, who was rather cranky when he heard Derek had been sending a myriad of messages. Stiles desperately needed to gather his thoughts. Home would provide the space he needed.

One long bus ride later, and he was back home. Stiles lived in the rural countryside, together with his dad, near a dense forest where Stiles often went for a meditative run. What better way to clear your mind than to almost puke out your own lungs?

 Stiles always felt the sky was a bit bigger, more open here. The sky in the city, at times, felt constricting and small.

When he arrived at the quaint house, the lights were out, and there was no sight of his father. A little note was left on the dining table. Apparently, the police corps had a teambuilding retreat this weekend, so his dad wouldn’t be home until Sunday night. While Stiles did feel a bit sad because his dad wasn’t here, he also was kind of excited. Being all alone meant only several things: hilarious movie marathon, lots of junk food, and walking around all day in either pyjama’s or just boxers. Life was good.

After he had unpacked everything, threw away questionably smelling socks and underwear in the laundry machine and ordered Chinese, he settled in the couch and turned on the television. Maybe it was luck, or maybe it was destiny, but they were playing _Easy A_. Stiles thought it was basically _Mean Girls_ , but with some a bit more intellectualism. He also loved _Mean Girls_. Both movies were so fetch.

Stiles must have dozed off somewhere during the movie, because when he opened his eyes again, a sharp daylight poured through the windows his eyes. A young news reporter was currently filling him in on all the latest news. Seems he forgot to turn of the television. Moving through the mess he made last night, crumbles of chips, empty soda cans and solitary noodles, he went for the kitchen to clean up, when the doorbell rang. Stiles, not entirely aware of being dressed in just a grey t-shirt and batman boxer shorts, opened the door and found Jackson waiting on the porch.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cliffhanger! Hope you guys liked the third installment! More coming up soon! Also, I'm taking Sterek and Stackson prompts on my Tumblr: http://perksofbeingaverage.tumblr.com/ (I always welcome new followers ;) )  
> I do enjoy reading your comments and seeing your Kudos!  
> Apologies for any lingering mistakes; unbeta'd
> 
> See you next time, Ven.


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